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TIFU By leaving my BF’s penis lying around

TLDR at the bottom.

Obligatory yes, this actually happened today.

This morning, around 10am, I wake up on the floor (that’s a different story), delirious from getting very little sleep, and realize that I promised my good friend Jimbo I’d hang out with him at 11. The tired is overwhelming; I text asking if we can hang later. The consensus is yes, but we definitely won’t have a lot of time. 11 it is, so be it. I start cleaning up my dorm.

It’s been a hard week—there’s a giant laundry pile that I cover with a blanket, abundant trash that I remove, crumbs that I pick up. I’m interrupted in my cleaning process by a knock-knock-knock, ten minutes early.

“You’re early, my dude,” I say, frantically picking up a bunch of paper grocery bags to put them in a recycling bin. “Sorry, I’ll wait out here,” Jimbo says through the door. I do a quick look over my shoulder while I’m walking to the door to make sure that there’s nothing terrible lying around, and then open the door, walking past Jimbo to put the bags in the hall bin. I allow Jimbo to enter while I put the bags in the bin. Mistakes.

Coming back to the room, Jimbo is sitting at one of the two places in my dorm that there are to sit: my desk. Jimbo starts talking to me about Impractical Jokers, asking if I watch them and saying that there’s a clip he’d like to show me because he thought I’d appreciate it. I look at Jimbo’s phone, then a quick glance up at my desk makes my soul leave my body. My silicone copy of my BF’s dick is just chilling out, having a time on my desk. Oh my God.

I reach around Jimbo, who is intently staring at the clip on his phone. He’s talking about Impractical Jokers, like the gigachad that he is. I, as calmly as possible, grab the offensive object. He’s still talking about Impractical Jokers. I’m furiously opening a drawer and placing the source of my embarrassment inside—he’s still talking about Impractical Jokers.

With the Eyeball Offender 9000 put away, I finally look at the clip that’s playing on his phone. My face burns redder than a tomato. Jimbo’s giggling, and I’m not sure if it’s because of what just happened or the man imitating the Count from Sesame Street saying something about mesothelioma and the number “1-888-8888”. The seconds pass like hours as I try to contain my anxiety. The clip is over. I nervously laugh, then cue up the game that we were supposed to play.

The situation is never mentioned throughout the rest of the two-hour hang. We play as a conjoined dog, pushing melons around and jumping on plants. The 300 mg caffeine flowing through my body makes this all feel like a fever dream.

Jimbo, eventually, leaves. I am left to deal with the embarrassment of a situation that he has probably already forgotten about. I lay down for a three-hour nap.

Tl;dr: left a silicone copy of my BF’s penis out on my desk, didn’t notice, friend came over, didn’t mention it, talked about impractical jokers while I tried to stealthily put it away

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